Turk Flu
by AWildKatAppeared
Summary: What if the Turk Flu was real? What if one of the gang members contracted it? What would be the consequences if Guy found the gang's camp? What if... What if... What?
1. The Last Man

**This background info is important to the understandability feature of this ... uhm... creation.**

**Right, so, the wee bit of background. There was an episode called Turk Flu and after i watched it in my head i created a bizarre fascination with the idea that there may have been a real Turk Flu. As i was, like, 11 at the time, my first version was abysmal. But i recently found it on a floppy disk and decided to re-write it. It's completely off-base with the rest of the *cough* 300+ page novel i'd started, so i thought i would share it here.**

**Marian has just arrived, warning the gang that Guy is on his way with the treacherous Allan to rat out the location of the camp. In this version, Allan's a double agent (mwahah) and so he is still helping Robin by leaking information. He's a wee devil. Also in this version, Will has recently built the fabulous new camp (featured in season 2) but refers back to a previously made on in my head.**

**Oh, and it's winter.**

**Oh, and the most important fact. In my head i had said that Will had been shot by an arrow in a previous battle and was recovering slowly from it.**

**Unfortunately i do not own these characters. If only, eh?**

Burdened with the momentous task to conceal the camp from prying eyes, Will's body was unbelievably tense as he hurled snow onto the roof of the closed camp in an eager attempt to hide it from Guy. His ears were alert to the smallest of sounds, and even a squirrel scampering on the cliff edge way above him made him freeze and grab his axe. He knew that the survival of the gang rested on the camp's secrecy- if it were exposed and destroyed now, they would have to tough out the winter without cover, and the chances of surviving that was, literally, nothing. The cold was already heavily affecting him; he wore only a canvas tunic, canvas trousers, a pair of riding boots and a few belts holding his axe to his hip and so the chill seeped into him, curling around his bones, freezing him horridly. However, his task was too important to simply shrug off due to some minor chills. Instead Will worked faster, harder.

Soon he became aware of his grogginess. He paused for a moment, realising that he couldn't feel his fingertips, but it wasn't the fault of the cold, it was something other, something inside of him. This unnerved him. His breath became ragged from anxiety as he wriggled his fingers and felt nothing, and soon he started to cough uncontrollably. He grabbed his throat in a bid to shut up for sake of being heard, but all that resulted in were tears streaming down his face from lack of oxygen. He needed to stop his coughing; he needed to stop attracting attention to himself before…

"There! I see one sir!" a voice bellowed. Snapping his neck round, Will's eyes came upon a group of twenty or so guards upon horses galloping around the bend thirty feet away from the foot of the hill. The men were being led by Guy and unusually Vaisey who in turn were being followed by a grimacing Allan. It took Will a moment to realise he was the target of the guard's bellowing, but when it dawned upon him, he jerked into action, leaping away from the oncoming slaughtering.

However, his reckless movement cost him dearly, for his foot landed on some ice and he lost his balance, falling and tumbling down the slope towards the guards with a yell of pain and annoyance. His fall caused his healing wound to split and, naturally, start spilling blood on himself and the ground he rolled down. Ignoring the pain and thinking quickly, Will dug his nails into the snow and came to an abrupt stop near the base of the hill. Shaking his head from the pain and the disorientation, he stood up slower than he hoped and saw the men nearing and nearing. He had only one hope. Praying Allan figured what he was going to do, Will started running towards Guy and the guards, his eyebrows furrowed, his fists clenched. Guy frowned in confusion but urged his horse faster. Will was not let down, and his heart gave a breath of relief when Allan's horse began to over-take Guy's.

Allan and Will had practiced this manoeuvre numerous times in the gang's paddock, hidden deep within the forest's trees. Granted it was with different horses, and normally Will wouldn't have had an agonising side but they had to try, for Will's sake. They were within throwing distance and, with a roar, Will, once more, bounded off the ground. Allan gave a cry of pretend shock as Will jumped over his horse's head, grabbed his shirt and pushed them both off the steed.

"Break my fall." Will whispered urgently as they fell backwards. Allan did not need to reply- nor would he have had the time- but from seeing the blood on his friend's shirt he knew he was in a bad way. All he did instead was force his muscles to relax so the impact wouldn't be so painful on his shoulders. They tucked and rolled as the guards forced their horses away from the rolling bodies. "Let me away." Will asked as the last of the guards swerved them.

"Always." Allan grunted, rolling over once more and then pushing Will away. Staggering slightly, Will found his footing and then tore off down the hill without a backwards glance. He was headed to the 'rocky patch' as his brilliant friend Much had dubbed it; a vast area of rocks and moss which was the perfect short term hide-out. There were many opportunities to hide in amongst all the rocks, but there was one place in particular where Will felt most safe. Rounding the bend he urged himself faster, ignoring the searing pain in his waist. He could see his destination when the hoof beats grew nearer. He chanced a glance round and saw Guy rounding the bend, drawing his sword and bellowing abuse at Will. He knew that both Vaisey and Guy wanted to put the noose around his neck for the foiling of their plans, but he was also aware they would settle for a less humiliating, bloodier death. The fact he wasn't running as fast as he could terrified Will; he didn't want to die, especially not by the hands of Guy. He wanted to die peacefully, in the arms of the woman he loved; Djaq. Not that she would know… they couldn't be together even if they wanted to; being in Robin's gang would put a stop to that for sure.

He did not dwell on his misery for too long as he could feel Guy's hot breath tickle his neck, could hear the beating of the horse's heart, could see the ground give way underneath him as he leapt once more into the unknown.

It was as if he were experiencing it in slow motion. He heard the air whistling as Guy's blade came down beside his ear. He could see his reflection in the blade. He could hear the horse whinnying as it reared at the edge of the basin of rock. He could imagine Guy's look of dismay as the outlaw got away again. Will's arms swayed in a futile attempt to stay airborne. Failing that, he bent his knees, ready for the impact. His feet collided with the earth and he adopted the old technique once more- tuck and roll. It was one of the first things Robin had taught his gang; 'if you are falling, fall in a way that will cause you minimal damage'. It wasn't the most comfortable of things to do, but it was a damn sight less painful then crashing on your face.

He finally came to a stop at the side of a rock where he panted for several long seconds. It was as if his body refused to get up. He wanted to move, wanted to run away, but for the second time his body refused to listen to his brain. He began coughing again, his lungs contracting painfully. His eyes blurred and dipped into darkness for a split second and he wondered if he was dying. Yet, as quickly as it came it had gone. Stunned, it took Will a further second to get up, and by this time, Guy was hesitantly leading the guards down the rocky slope. Swearing at his idiocy, he bounded over the rocks, swinging his legs over the stones and slipping through gaps. He gained the upper hand due to his nimble skills from slipping through crowds of peasants or the grasp of guards and he was a good twenty feet away from Guy when he found the place he preferred to shelter from. There was an inlet in which he could crouch in and pull a blanket of leaves and twigs across the opening as if it were moss. He carefully positioned it, trying not to disturb the snow and show his hiding place and then he held his breath. His heart was racing from having ran and also from his second strange experience. He couldn't understand what it was that was happening to him. He put it down to exhaustion. Doing double watches and being unable to sleep from anxiety stopped him resting. He couldn't ever properly relax- there was always the chance of an ambush when someone else was on watch. They could fall asleep, or be attacked from behind, or anything. He felt he always had to be on watch to keep them safe, for there is nothing on this earth that would stop Will protecting Robin, the gang and Djaq. This constant worry that someone needs his help prevents him from sleeping.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are!" Guy taunted. Will jerked involuntarily; he was close. Really close. "I know you're in here somewhere. We can wait around here all day. You, cannot." Will ignored this tease and concentrated on staying conscious. His vision was dotted with black again, and his head thumped. His hands were shaking and his side was in agony. _As soon as I can get away, I'm finding Djaq. _He hated going to Djaq for medical aid- he didn't like the idea of seeming weak to her- but he realised that these… ordeals… weren't normal.

He did not know how long Guy hung about looking for him but he guessed by the loud whinny and the galloping of hooves that they had given up. Robin had always warned the gang of "the last man" and due to this, Will waited a further five minutes before. Unsurprisingly, soon after Guy left he heard another two horses leave. The last men had left, and so Will carefully crawled out of his hiding place. After checking he was alone he inspected his side. It looked positively gory, and the blood had gone black around the actual wound. Knowing this wasn't a good sigh, Will sacrificed what little heat his clothes gave him and ripped off both sleeves, tying them together and then wrapping them around his waist, covering his wound and pulling it tightly. He gave a gasp of involuntary pain and pulled the remaining tatters of his clothes down over his make-shift bandage. Then, making sure his axe was still on his hip, he started off at a run towards where Robin, Much and Marian had gone.


	2. The Camp

"I can't believe you wasted ten minutes wandering around a rock patch in search of a bloomin' boy." Vaisey growled, staring at Guy with disapproval.

"Forgive me, My Lord. I just assumed you'd rather we attempt to find the outlaw who foils most of our plans." Guy retorted bitterly.

"Oh la di da Guy. If you had any brains you'd have shot him whenever you saw him."

"With respect, My Lord, Allan had the perfect opportunity to kill the boy, and what did he do? Frolic down the hill like old friends." Guy spat at Allan.

"In case you hadn't noticed, Sir Guy, I was attempting to bash his brains into the ground. However, Vaisey m'lord, I think you'll agree with me it's a little hard to do that when you're rolling uncontrollably down an icy slope and horses are nearly kicking your skull in." Allan replied.

"Hmm." Vaisey nodded, stretching. "What's the boy's name?"

"William Phillip." The lie came easily to Allan; in the gang they'd all had alternate names if ever they were caught. For him, Allan Kennedy was his alter-ego. "He's always been a right tosser." He spat. Like before, lying was second nature to Allan. After being forced to work for the Sheriff and Guy to save his mother, he'd learnt to hide his true emotions. However, this pretence was taking over, and he sometimes found it hard to show what he was really feeling to Robin, Will or Marian. He disliked this inability to communicate with them, but it was necessary. He couldn't show he still cared for them; his mother would pay the price.

"Allan? How many outlaws are there in Hood's gang?" Vaisey asked, leading his horse to trot beside Allan. Allan caught Guy's rolling eyes and smirked. "A lot then?" Vaisey clicked unimpressed.

"Well, it could have changed by now, but there can't be more than half a dozen…" Allan began. This was also a lie. There were six of them, but Vaisey wasn't to know that.

"Ha!"

"…In the inner circle." Allan continued firmly. Vaisey paused in his pleasure, his mouth still wide open. His eyes narrowed and his mouth shut.

"Ah. And… in the outer circle?" Vaisey enquired, looking reluctantly at Allan. He just looked back. Vaisey exhaled deeply. "Fabulous."

Will tracked them from above, watching where they were headed. It wasn't long before he figured it out; Allan was a genius. Veering away from them, he started off faster for Robin, Much and Marian finding them only a few minutes after.

"He's taking them to the old camp." He reported upon his arrival. Robin looked him over.

"What happened to you?" he demanded. Will waved it away.

"Doesn't matter; Allan will probably need our aid if he's to pull off the fact we still stay at the camp. We have to show face, swing swords and if we want to seem to be protecting our home."

Robin looked at him disapprovingly, before agreeing unwillingly. "Yeah, you're right. Come on."

"Will's probably already warned them we're here. If it were up to me, I'd have you all dismount and walk from here; Will always put trick wires up and we can't manoeuvre the horses around them. Is this acceptable m'lord?" Allan asked, slowing his horse regardless. Vaisey looked at him, considering his request.

"Yes." He said finally. He was aware of Allan's past and his calibration with Robin Hood, but he'd given up on the gang after they'd turned on him. Allan was true to Vaisey, found someone new to trust, and so he was allowing him to prove himself. Guy… Guy didn't trust Allan as far as he could throw him, but he, the Sheriff, had to trust his new member of the squadron.

Allan acknowledged his acceptance with a nod of his head, and with one more directed at the guards, the group dismounted. They were only a few metres away from the opening to the old camp, but he wanted to waste time so he requested that the guards all drew their swords or primed their arrows. Then, he led them forward slowly 'checking' for trick wires. He paused at the corner, glanced at the guards before bellowing "NOW!" as they all ran around the bend. As expected- and as hoped- the camp was vacated, and he let out an enraged holler. He kicked out at the old wooden chair which toppled and crumbled from rot. He cringed; that would be noticed by Guy most likely. Trying to figure out what he was going to do next, he sheathed his sword and then ran his numb fingers through his snow-speckled hair. "I can't believe they're not here." He muttered, seeing Vaisey wander ahead of him, fingering the table and inspecting the depth of snow. He heard a heavy, direct crunch behind him, and knew Guy was standing right behind him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Vaisey take three guards into store room built into the cliff face to inspect the inside.

"I don't find it hard to believe. In fact, I don't believe your gang has been here for ages…" Guy snarled into Allan's ear.

Keeping his back to him, Allan re-positioned his shirt and sniffed, "I swear that we only just missed them." He said firmly.

"You know I've had this for as long as I can remember. My father gave me it." Guy droned, completely off topic.

"Wha-?" Allan began, but was interrupted with the arrival of Guy's silver dagger at his exposed neck. His hand whipped up and clutched Guy's gloved hand. "Guy?" he cautioned, gulping to remain calm.

"The thing is, Allan, I don't believe one single word that drools out of your non-educated mouth. You and your slang words, your uncleanliness, your outlaw friends. I don't trust any of it."

"I'm sure my uncleanliness would have something to say about that." Allan retorted sourly. He wished he hadn't as the sharp edge of the blade now pricked his neck. Tensing, he licked his lips and silenced.

"You should be grateful for the soft spot Vaisey has for you. If it wasn't for the fact he likes you, you, Allan, would be six feet under by now. Shame he'd complain. Shame he likes you." He muttered.

"This isn't to do with Vaisey." Allan scorned, shifting slightly under Guy's grasp. His back was bent backwards in the hold Guy held him in, and it was growing painful.

"True. What bugs me the most about you is the fact that you've coiled Maid Marian around your trickster finger." Guy hissed.

"I do not know what you mean." Allan frowned.

"Don't play me as a fool!" Guy growled loudly, pressing the blade into Allan's skin. He could feel his skin break and he could feel the first bead of blood dripping down his neck. "I've seen you and her talking, laughing… hugging. Don't deny that. Let me make this perfectly clear for you; if you so much as touch Marian once more, I _will _kill you. And then I can blame it on Robin Hood, and you can let Hood know that the next time you-."

His words were cut off by a whizzing arrow, cutting through the winter air and burrowing itself into Guy's leather jacket. He jerked at the action and, unfortunately, his arm was part of his spasm and the blade tore across Allan's neck, slicing his skin. He fell to his knees when Guy stopped propping him up, and on the ground he cupped his hand around his neck gasping in pain. It was a shallow wound, but it stung like a bitch. Pulling his fingers away the air bit into his flesh like a rabid dog, and his fingers were stained red. He grimaced.

"My Lord!" Guy shouted, tearing the arrow out his jacket and throwing the arrow shaft down upon Allan's head, who ignored him. "He's here."


	3. Will's First Fall

Robin quickly reloaded his bow and primed it and slouched in the shadow of the tree once more. His heart skipped a beat when he saw his comrade fall, but was comforted when he hoisted himself back onto his feet. He watched as Allan produced a scarf from his pocket and took it to his neck, which he could see from here was dripping red, and tying it around carefully before unsheathing his sword. Robin released the arrow and watched as it landed an inch from Allan's foot. Seeing this, Allan looked up, smiled slightly in acknowledgment and then swiftly nudged it over, calling to the guards and pointing them right, away from Robin.

"Did you see his neck?" Will asked anxiously. Robin looked down at Will who was crouched beside Marian and Much, his shirt stained red and sniffed.

"Yeah, he looked fine though. Unlike some." He commented lowly. Will ignored this as he watched Allan return to the main room in response to Vaisey's call.

"Allan, don't just wander off! That's Guy's job. No, you stay here, protect me!" he ordered, clamouring to Allan's side.

"M'Lord." Allan nodded respectfully, rising his sword higher.

It seemed like an age the guards wandered around in the forest, not really looking for the gang, but simply avoiding Vaisey's wrath and eyes. Robin had hoisted Marian into the tree above them just in case the guards did stumble upon them, which was just as well

"Hood!" Guy roared. Jumping slightly, Will, Much and Robin drew their swords, turning and facing Guy and three guards. "I've found you." He said, cocking his head smugly.

"Guy." Robin replied, composing himself. "Always a pleasure. Tell me, what are you doing in our home? It's nice to invite yourself before you barge in."

"Awfully sorry, but you see, we were escorted. By none other than your friend." Guy sneered.

"Friend?" Will spat. "Betrayer. He's no friend of ours."

Guy looked directly at Will. "Perhaps not." His eyes fell to Will's side, then to Robin. "It seems I have the pleasure of fighting you; the rest of your gang don't seem to be here… or rather, fit to even stand."

As a reply, Will lunged with his sword, meeting Guy's dagger previously concealed in his fist. Guy faulted at this attack. "I think you'll find I am in more than working order." He retorted, his eyes narrow. He lunged again, and Guy jerked at his ferocity. "If anything, I'm even more dangerous."

With the open threat, Guy forwarded the next attack, and so the brawl began. The three guards were felled in quick succession, and Robin and Much forced Guy down the slope away from Marian. Will glanced up at her. "We'll be back soon."

"Be careful!" she hissed.

Will turned to her, his eyes gleaming in the fading light. She saw the blood patch wet and sticky on his shirt and she recoiled. "We always are." He said simply before switching to axe and proceeding down the hill, stopping two guards assaulting Robin whilst he was battling Guy. He was thankful Allan was to protect the Sheriff and not directly attack Robin. Much or himself, for the pretend fighting was more dangerous and more difficult than real fighting. The real fighting, however, was so much more difficult for now due to Will's side, and more than once he narrowly avoided a fatal blow.

His luck was running out though. He hammered the butt of his axe into the skull of one of the guards when his eyes dipped once more. His axe became so heavy in his hand he could barely hold it. He couldn't feel his feet. His knees were weak. His head pounded. He was falling.

"Robin." He muttered, his breath leaving him. Robin shoved Guy away and spun around to see Will's body slump towards the ground.

"Will!" he gasped, diving to catch him. "Will, come on, get up!" He growled, shaking his comrade furiously. His head lolled back as he lost consciousness. "Much!" he cried, noting Guy speeding towards him. As a reply, Much's sword hammered down on Guy's blade, stopping him in his tracks. Robin's attention was returned to Will. "Come on Will, please. Stay with us."

"Master!" Much yelled. Noting his alarm, Robin carefully- yet hastily- guided Will's head to the ground and in an instant blocked a blow from a guard, pushing him over and standing up.

"Keep an eye on Will." Robin ordered, taking over from much battling Guy. Will was right in the fact that they should come and show face to save Allan, but he was a fool for attempting to fight… and Robin was a fool for letting him. His life might even pay the forfeit. He couldn't let that happen.

"So much for your friend being fit as a fiddle." Guy teased, flicking his hair to the side. "You should take better care of your children."

"Will's more than capable of holding his end of a fight." Robin snapped.

"Yeah, I can see that." Guy grinned, taking a side step towards him.

"You stay away from him." Robin barked, stepping between them. They sparred for a moment or two, but a cry of pain from Much threw Robin off concentration, and was disarmed. Guy raised his sword arm, and for a moment, Robin assumed he was going to die.

The thought did not terrify him.

"Get away from him." Came the familiar growl as an axe blocked the assault. Will. Robin watched as another strong attack disarmed the alarmed Guy. "Sorry." Will hissed to Robin as they caught eyes.

"It's… fine?" Robin frowned, confused, picking up his sword and facing Guy. Much came beside them, looked at Will bemused before reporting the guards were dealt with.

"Well, Guy? Are you giving up?" Robin demanded.

"I…" Guy looked upon the three gang members. Three. Three unarmed men had taken out 20 armed soldiers. This ratio was unacceptable. "I forfeit."

"Good decision. Allan, take your new master home." Robin spat.

"Robin?" Allan replied. "Enjoy freezing to death in this miserable forest."

They glared at each other, yet in this glare, they knew they had done well.

Both parties left in their opposite directions, their numbers now reduced to three each. Robin, Much and Will came to the top of the hill and Robin aided Marian down from the tree. When she was on the ground she looked to Will.

"Are you alright?" She asked kindly.

"Now, yes. But that's happened twice today. I don't know why."

"You should speak to Djaq." Much said, matter-of-factly.

Will nodded, slipping his axe wearily into his sling. "You should make to the castle Marian. Guy will most likely look to you for comfort after this bitter loss. "

"Oh, how that thought fills me with joy. Alas, you are right. I shall fetch my horse from the valley and be gone. Farewell Much, Will. Take care. Robin, may I have a word?" Marian requested.

While Robin and Marian spoke, Much tenderly asked Will how he was, "Not good." was his simple reply.

"Let us be off." Robin stated a few moments later, and the three of them started off towards home.


	4. Does Anyone Disagree With Me? No? Good

"Robin." Will said faintly. Robin looked around. "Robin, it's happening- happening ag-."

Robin was not fast enough this time. Coughing, Will dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes. His bones seemed to rattle on the ground. Crouching beside Will, Robin looked deeply troubled.

"Much my friend, you've had some training in medicine. Do you know what is wrong with Will?" Robin asked.

Much shook his head sorrowfully. "No."

Sighing, Robin lifted the hem of Will's shirt, and tenderly untied the make shift bandage to look upon the wound. "I can only presume it's some sort of infection. Djaq will know. But how do we take Will to her? I doubt we can carry him all the way back to camp. Not that he'd weigh much at all mind." He asked, tearing off his own sleeves and tying them together, providing Will with a clean bandage.

"Neither would he take too kindly at seeming so weak to have to be carried home. However… I see no alternative." Much added. Robin agreed, yet they had to take Will back. Taking his arm, he hoisted Will onto his shoulder, Much taking his other side, and they began their trek home.

Nearing the Oak tree they had decided to meet up at, Much demanded they stopped and rested. Robin agreed to Much resting, and he left Will in the care of Much as he went to fetch the others. He found them sitting at the base of the tree wordlessly. Upon seeing him, they leapt up and came to join him.

"We have the camp still?" Djaq enquired.

"Yes." Robin nodded.

"That is good news." Littlejohn smiled, his shoulders relaxing.

"Yes, but, Will… Djaq, he needs your help."

"What happened to him?" Djaq asked alarmed.

"Come, walk with me." Robin ordered and immediately they were off. "It is his arrow wound- it hasn't healed. From what I can tell it's been infected. He's fallen unconscious three times in one day. During our fight with Guy he just collapsed, and Much and I could do nothing about it. It nearly cost him his life in the heat of battle… He's out just now; Much is sitting with him just yonder."

"How do you mean unconscious?" Djaq asked, frowning deeply.

"If only I knew. He said that his sight dims… I do not know." Robin shook his head wearily. "It pains me to see him in such a state."

Much greeted them a few yards from where he'd propped Will against a tree. "He hasn't woken yet. It's been quite some time." He informed them. Djaq hurried past them to Will and recoiled at the amount of blood he was coated in. She crouched beside him and checked his pulse, his temperature and then his wound.

"Robin." She whispered urgently. He was at her side in a second. "We must get him back to camp. Now." She reported. Without instruction, Littlejohn carefully hoisted Will into his arms and as one the gang started off towards the camp at a swift pace

There was an awkward silence.

"It's like carrying a child." Littlejohn murmured. "Why did we let such a young boy risk his life for us?"

"I don't know John." Robin sighed miserably. "Seeing him like this pains my heart. I should have taken better care of him."

"Master, you did your best by him."

"Doing." George corrected. "You're speaking like he's gone. He hasn't. You know Will, he'll bounce back in a day, and will be protecting us, fixing things once again. You'll see."

Robin smiled slightly. "Let's hope so."

They reached the bottom of the hill in good time, and that was when they all caught sight of the disturbed, bloodied ground.

"Was Will involved in a fight here?" Tuck asked, observing the large spaces between blood spatters.

"There are horse marks." Reported Much. "Could Guy have been here?"

Robin said nothing, and just hoped Will had not endured more pain fighting here alone.

Tuck opened the camp and they headed in, Djaq instructing Littlejohn to lie Will down on the bed. He did so, and for a moment they all looked down upon the frail skeleton of a boy they all cared for. Then Djaq bustled about crushing herbs and other things none of the men understood. Robin sat on the edge of Will's bed, contemplating the future for Will.

"When he's recovered I'm going to send him to Scarborough to be with his family." He reported. The gang looked round for an explanation. "He's at least ten years younger than the youngest of us, by my reckoning. He should not have to live in these conditions nor should he fight for his survival. His carpentry skills far succeed what use he has here. He should be raising a family, leading a good life. He shouldn't be lying in a bed in the middle of the forest potentially bleeding to death. It's not right."

Djaq continued with her herb crushing, turning away from the gang.

"Does anyone disagree with me?" Robin enquired, already fully aware that it was the correct and proper course of action to take. "Good."

With that he stood up and walked away from them all to clear his mind. The gang looked at one another wordlessly. For Djaq, her sleeves were her only comfort.

"Will! How are you feeling?" Much's voice filled the camp.

The gang leapt to their feet, and crowded around Will's bed to watch his waking up. His eyes were dilated and out of focus, and his face was pale, but he was awake.

"Hmm, been better." He groaned, altering his position slightly. His eyes finally focussed and he looked at his friends' faces. "You all look like I'm Guy or something. What's happened?"

"Nothing, Will, we're just glad to have you back." Robin said, sitting down on the end of his bed once more.

"I'm glad to be back." Will replied, holding a hand to his head. "It wasn't nice being… being wherever I was."

"Your wound has been heavily infected Will." Djaq reported sombrely. "And… I don't know how much I can do."

The gang blinked at her. Will licked his lips. "Am I going to die?"

"No." Robin said instantly. "No. You won't. I promise you that."

"That's a bit of a silly promise. I'm going to die eventually, whether it be tonight or in ten years." Will scowled, going to sit up.

"Careful. Don't do anything too quickly." Djaq hissed, stepping forward.

"If I'm going to die then I don't want to be lying in a bed waiting for it to happen." Will snarled.

"You're not going to die Will." Djaq told him firmly. "I just don't know what I can do to ease your pain."

"If that's all that you can't do, you don't need to worry. I'm fine." Will said adamantly, swinging his legs out of bed without flinching. Inside, however, he yelped in pain. He wouldn't show it then.

"Will, you're not." Much said pointedly. "You nearly died today."

Will shrugged. "It's a risk we all take. Now please, can we all get on with our evening?"

Defeated, Littlejohn, George and Tuck walked away, Much a second after. Djaq did not budge and Robin stood up off the bed. "Alright." Robin agreed. "But promise me you'll take it easy tonight?"

Will nodded. "Agreed."


	5. The Turk Flu

It got gradually worse and worse. Will was helping Much with the dinner when his hearing faded. He knew what was going to happen next, so he stammered something inaudible to himself and took a step backwards, his throat catching fire and sending him into a frenzy of coughing. Much grabbed his wrists, and called for someone, but Will heard nothing. His eyes started spinning and he could feel his legs giving out. Then he saw black.

Much held him up until Littlejohn arrived, and together, they sat Will down on the bed once again, resting his head against the back wall. Djaq checked him over, but there was little she could do. "Only time will tell." She said miserably, furious she could do nothing to aid her love. She couldn't bear the thought of losing him, to Scarborough never mind to death. Robin had obviously misjudged her, as she was perhaps a year older than Will, but that was all. She didn't mention it sooner for sake of drawing attention to the fact she cared for him. Really, genuinely cared for him. She declared she was going to sit by his side until he woke in case his condition deteriorated, which she did, but her real reason for sitting by him was to keep him company in his darkness. From Will's description she forced from him, she could imagine him feeling the loss of his sight and hearing and then the ground vanishing from underneath him. These symptoms were a result of something, and although she wracked her brains, she could not remember what caused such things. It annoyed her.

She grew weary trying to remember what it was and she dropped her head on his shoulder. She was genuinely surprised at how comfortable his shoulders were, given how bony they were. She wanted nothing more than to cuddle into Will and be embraced in return. However, she knew she couldn't. Not now. It was about ten minutes before he rose again, but she wasn't aware of it. She only realised he was awake when his fingers rubbed her knee gently, fondly, warmly. She tingled.

"You okay?" he whispered. He sounded groggy, but his voice was concerned.

"I'm just worried for you." She said, wishing to be his.

"I'm alright. I'll be alright, you'll see." He said. And she believed him. He cursed his incompetence in battle for allowing himself to be wounded so badly that he required attention from Djaq. He also cursed his incompetence for being terrible at interacting with women.

Djaq got up a few moments later, going to help Much with the cleaning of the kitchen. Robin and Littlejohn were tending to the horses, Tuck was filling in his diary and George was counting the funds. Will demanded he do something and so he also rose to busy himself with some sort of trivial task. It seemed like a normal night.

Besides from Will's relentless coughing.

His chest was burning, as though he'd been running for miles. His mouth was as dry as the Holy Lands Robin had described to him. His eyes stung like the sun bearing upon them on a summer's day. His muscles were aching like he's been sparring with swords.

His hands clawed at his mouth in a vain attempt to shut himself up, and when he drew them away, he was alarmed to see the bright crimson pool of blood in his palms. Gagging in anxiety, he gulped down air, breathing heavily as his head began to split, the contents of his vision spinning like a vortex. A ringing pierced his hearing and he shook his head to get rid of the buzzing. This only disorientated him more. Shaking, coughing, bleeding, he grabbed for the table and missed, crashing to the floor where he saw black for the final time.

"Djaq!" Tuck ran out into the cold, looking for Djaq and Much after realising the kitchen was vacated. The slope was equally as deserted. "Djaq" He looked up the slope and hurried through the snow, wishing he's taken a cloak. _No, there was no time. Will's collapse was different, more urgent. He's coughed up blood, and he fell with… finality. Will… Will has-_. "Djaq! Thank goodness, come! It's Will, he's worse. He coughed up blood, and then fell… Djaq." Much, Robin, Djaq and he were already three quarters back to the camp by the time he got to his conclusion. "Djaq, if I am not mistaken, his symptoms… I believe he has contracted Turk Flu."

"Turk- Tuck, are you sure?" Djaq gasped unwillingly.

"What is it? What's Turk Flu?" Robin demanded anxiously.

"It's a disease that attacks the senses. I should have realised sooner; he said his sight and hearing kept going. I don't know why I didn't see it. I'm sorry." Tuck stammered. Robin shook his head, and let them both into the camp first, followed by himself and Much. George was standing a few steps away from Will, shaking his head.

"He's cursed." He muttered, his eyes wide. The gang looked to Will, lying on the floor, trembling slightly, his nose and mouth drooling blood down his face, his eyes squeezed shut in pain, his fists clenched.

"Will!" Djaq cried in dismay, throwing herself onto the floor beside him. "You don't even help him onto the bed?" she growled at George, her voice cracked and eyes watery.

"That ain't natural. He ain't with us now." George stammered, turning away in horror.

"Littlejohn, get him on the bed, c_arefully_." Robin ordered, his brows creased deeply. Littlejohn obliged, looking in terror down at the tense, uncontrolled body.

"Robin, I don't have what I need to cure Turk Flu. The only place which would keep such medicine is the apocothary in Nottingham." She cried, wiping away a tear.

"Right, Tuck, do you know what we need?" Robin asked quickly. Tuck nodded. "Good, you and I will go and fetch what we need. Djaq, stay here. Make Will… comfortable." He grimaced, pulling on his cloak and leaving with Tuck.

"Come on Will, don't give up now." Much whispered, staring down at the shaking body, watching as the momentarily changed blood trails started slipping down his cheek again. "We need you."

Djaq wiped her eyes on her sleeve and fetched an old shirt, ripping it and wiping the blood trails from his face. "Will, I'm sorry. Forgive me?" she whispered to him, stroking his hair fondly.

"Djaq?" Littlejohn asked quietly. "Is there anything we can do?"

Djaq shook her head, holding a hand to her mouth. "We can do nothing but sit and wait."

"Wait? For what?" Much frowned.

"For what the Gods decide is his destiny." She said simply, elapsing into a new wave of tears.

Much understood. He didn't want to understand, but he knew what faith was and he knew that where Will was now, no human could reach him. He was standing in front of God, awaiting judgement.

And he hoped and prayed it was not his time to leave.


	6. Harold Means Bad

The ride into Nottingham was quick. Robin and Tuck tore through the streets, peasants leaping out of their way. They did not complain- they knew who Robin was and they cheered for him, for what he has done and will do for them. He was unable to smile back at them. He had a mission.

They rounded the corner onto Pitt Street, a long winding street with few inhabitants. They leapt off their steeds, and Tuck picketed them beside a brown mare as Robin banged on a door urgently. Upon inspection, there was a sign by the side of the door that used to read Harold Meansblad, but children had vandalised it to read 'Harold Meansbad'. A slight smile pulled at Tuck's lips; childish antics never ceased to amuse me. The door opening, however, tore his mind away to the task at hand.

"Harold, the Physician?" Robin asked.

"I'm closed." The man snapped, going to close the door.

"Please, sir." Robin held out his hand to stop the door from closing. "Please, it's an emergency; one of our friends is… we need your help. Desperately."

Harold squinted at him, peered down the street before sighing and allowing them entrance. "For Robin Hood, of course I offer my services."

"Thank you." Robin nodded appreciatively and stepped into the room, closely followed by Tuck. The room was small, and filled with medical basins, herbs and plants. There were drooping plants hanging over the roof rafters, and others in numbered jars sitting on a shelf in numerical order. There was a large book with record of patients, herb and spices sitting open on the table, next to some barely touched bread and wine.

"Sorry to have disturbed your meal, but I wouldn't bother you if it weren't urgent." Robin apologised, peering up the rickety stair case.

"Never matter." Harold said, his grey eyes dark and unfriendly. By his tone he sounded like he minded, that he said one thing and meant another. Robin waved this thought away.

"Our dear friend Will has, we think, contracted the Turk Flu and-." Robin began.

"Ah, the Turk Flu. Hmm, painful, yes. Can start with just a scratch you see, and in cold conditions it escalates. Takes over your mind, you see. It captures your speech first, making you incapable to speak anything intelligent. Then your hearing muffles and mutes and then pierces your head with a sharp ringing that doesn't go away. Your touch suffers next, and you realise you cannot tell you are standing on ground; you feel that you are floating, or falling in an uncontrollable whirl…"

"Yes, please, that's quite-."

"It controls you. Feeds on you. Turns you into a rag doll. You could be lacerated with a knife and you could not scream. Beaten over the head with a rock and still feel like you're falling once you're on the floor. You could be incinerated in an oven and not be able to do anything about it. You could feel your eyes being burnt out your skull, your flesh, boiling. All your pain, all your agony, your screaming, your tears all locked inside your blank little eyes. Your-."

"Enough!" Robin roared. He couldn't take any more.

"Ah, yes, I see. I am sorry." Harold blinked. Robin was repulsed by his thought that Harold was enjoying himself. "Well there is little you can do, but I suppose you want me to accompany you to the desolate forest and tend to this, ah, Will?"

"That would be greatly appreciated." Tuck said firmly. To Robin he also sounded repulsed by Harold's words.

"Yes." He sniffed, looking at Tuck. "Quite. I'll be down shortly."

"What we need is-." Tuck went to follow Harold.

"I am a physician good sir, I know what I need. Now if you would excuse me." Harold said indignantly, starting up the stairs.

Tuck went to retort but Robin shook his head. "Peace, Tuck, peace. Let's not anger the man who may save Will's life."

"Forgive me Sir Robin. It is his attitude; I am not fond of it."

"You and me both my friend. But we need not dwell on his lectures." Robin said. A few minutes passed, and Robin grew restless. He called up the stairs. "Harold, forgive me, but I was wondering-."

"If I could hurry up? No. There are numerous things I must take with me, and I do not want to forget anything." Harold snapped.

"Yes, of course. Pardon me." Robin looked to Tuck who raised his eyebrows. They could do nothing but stare around the room for the time between Robin's request and Harold's arrival at the bottom of the stairs. From the way Harold looked strained, the bag looked heavy, and well packed. This could only be a good thing… or bad, if this was the amount of stuff Will needed to aid his suffering.

"Well?" Harold demanded. Jerking, Robin and Tuck hurried out into the snow, untying their rides. Harold mounted his mare and looked down the street. Robin followed his gaze. Two guards.

"Let us be on our way." Robin grumbled, hoping the guards did not see Harold's accompaniment. He and Tuck started off, thinking they were leading him away. Instead, Harold turned in his saddle, pointed at the two receding horses, clasped his hands in a plead and beckoned them to follow. They nodded and dashed away. He spurred his horse into action and followed them, albeit unwillingly.

Arriving at the camp, the gang stepped aside to let the physician through. He was clutching his bag and gazing down the slope they had just came before catching Robin's eye and hurrying inside. He crossed the room to Will's side and recoiled. "You did not tell me he was like this."

"Like what?" Robin frowned.

"Never mind. Do you have ale? And mint?" the physician asked, rolling up his sleeves.

"Shouldn't you have brought that with you?" Tuck asked innocently. Harold glared at him. "If I had been informed he was like _this_ I would have brought the mint myself."

"Here." Littlejohn handed Tuck the ale and a small pouch of mint that Djaq had given him. Harold unstopped the ale and drunk deeply. _Isn't that supposed to be for Will?_ Robin thought bitterly. With the frowns from his friends he gathered they were thinking the same thing.

Harold reached into his bag and brought out a small white bottle. He took off the cork and raised it to Will's lips.

"What's that?" Tuck asked doubiously.

"Angel's kiss. A simple remedy to numb the pain."

"I have never heard of such a thing." Djaq said suspiciously.

"You are a Saracen. You know nothing." Harold said simply, pouring the contents down Will's throat. Robin shot Djaq a glance and she turned away furiously instead of yelling at Harold.

"I work better without an audience." Harold commented simply, pulling up Will's shirt and lifting a knife from his satchel. Robin paused, a knife? Harold carelessly sliced the bandage off and threw it to the side, paying no heed to gentleness or cleanliness. Robin nodded and indicated his gang to go into the kitchen, out of the way. He watched Harold from the doorway as he brought out a wad of bandages from the half-empty bag.

Half-empty?

With a frown, Robin left the camp and headed down the slope quickly. He paused at the base of the hill. There. A bandage. It was caught in the bare tree just off the path. He snatched it up. The _fiend!_ Snarling he pocketed the bandage, and looked up. He spotted another strip, hanging over a rock some twenty feet down the path. He ripped it off the boulder. How could he? How _could _he? Feeling ready to retch, Robin started off again, in search of more markers. He found only one more when he saw Guy and easily thirty or more guards charging along the path just below him.

"Shit." Robin hissed, turning and bolting towards the camp. His head was pounding with fury at Harold for when he arrived at the camp he jumped into the door yelling. "Imposter! I trusted you!"

Harold looked up lazily as the gang rushed through.

"I trusted you, we all did. And what did you do? You led Guy straight to us!"

"What?" Much exclaimed.

Harold stood up and wiped his bloodied hands on Will's shirt.

"Do you really think I would help you? Do you really think I, Harold Meansblad would aid the notorious outlaw? I treated the Gisborne family for many, many years. I know where my loyalties lie."

"Make sure he doesn't leave this camp." Was all Robin could say, and Littlejohn held him steady, and tightly, as Much bound his wrists.

He did not protest.


	7. Not A Good Day

"What are we going to do?" George asked as Robin paced to Will's bed. He observed his friend and was relieved to see him breathing as though he were sleeping, although the crimson tracks on his face reminded him he wasn't so peacefully resting.

"We must fight. We cannot just allow Guy to waltz in here." Robin said, lifting his sword and facing his gang.

"I'll stay with Will." Djaq said.

"No. What Harold has done will suffice until we've driven Guy away. We need you to help us protect the camp, and so Will. Else there may not be a Will to return to." Djaq nodded, realising he was right. "Trust me."

"I do." She said, glancing at Will before pulling on her sword. As one, they left the camp, closed it and then ran down the slope, hoping to catch Guy before he knew where their real camp was.

They weren't quick enough. The group of soldiers arrived at the base of the slope as they were descending. Guy's face lit up in pleasure, and Robin knew they were already defeated.

"So, this is where you hide is it? Well, well, well. Seems Allan lied to me indeed."

"Oh no Guy, you may trust your new found companion. He obviously loves telling you all our secrets. We'd realised for some time there was a spy in our midst, so I ordered Will to build another base without informing anyone else." Robin spat. He still needed to protect Allan.

"Yes, speaking of the vermin, I don't see him. Let me guess, my physician is with him? He must not be feeling so fine after all." Guy sneered, dismounting.

"Now!" Robin roared, wanting to have the upper hand and catch him off guard. The gang attacked furiously, fighting for survival, fighting for their camp, and fighting for Will. Nothing would stop them in their mission to save their beloved comrade.

Nothing except the creak of the camp and a triumphant looking physician strolling down the slope. The fighting paused to watch the man casually wander through the brawl.

"Sir Guy. A splendid evening, is it not?" Harold asked with a smile, passing Littlejohn and Much.

"You miserably cretin!" Much swore.

"I do not know why you cuss me, simpleton. I haven't yet told you the good news." Harold frowned, arriving at Guy's side. He smirked.

"Your little friend? Is dead."

The world stopped.

Robin's sword fell to the ground, defeated. No, surely no. He couldn't be. He just… no, Will?

Djaq's sword clattered against one of the fallen guard's helmets as she ran to the camp, abandoning the fight. The rest of the gang followed suit. Robin stared at Guy and Harold. He couldn't comprehend. Will?

"Aww, has Robin given up? One of his little friends has been murdered by the man he thought would save him?"

Robin said nothing, but turned around and walked to the camp, his feet like lead in the snow.

He walked into camp to see Much and Littlejohn standing afar, tear streaks lining their cheeks. George and Tuck stood near the door, wordless, shocked. Djaq was knelt beside Will, weeping, her head buried in Will's side.

His beloved friend lay still on the bed he made, in the camp he made. His face was drained of blood, the majority of which was spilled on his cheeks, his neck, his collar, his shirt. His side oozed blood on the sheets and his stomach, his slim muscular figure nothing but a wounded bloody mess.

A single tear slipped from underneath his eye lid and the gang watched as it made its slow descend down his eye socket, his high cheekbone and then down his cheek. Robin leant and with his thumb, took the tear from his dear friend's eye before clenching his fist.

"I should have been here." He muttered faintly. He dropped his eyes to Djaq. "You should have been here. Someone should have been here. No-one should have to die alone. No-one, let alone Will."

Much's comforting hand grasped his shoulder. "Do not blame yourself master. You did all that you could."

"Which wasn't enough." Robin shook his head.

"He appreciated everything you did for him Robin." Tuck said firmly. "He loved being in the gang."

"But he shouldn't have died! He was just a boy! He didn't deserve to die!"

"Today was not a good day to die." Littlejohn said thickly.

"Yes, well, not for you lot. I want you alive." Guy said with a grin, leaning on the doorframe to the camp. Furious, distraught and wracked with grief, Djaq tore screaming across the room, leaping at Guy and clawing at his face.

"You did this! You murdered him! You killed the man I love! It's your fault!" Djaq screeched hysterically, tears streaming down her contorted face.

Guy pushed her off forcefully with a snarl and she crumpled to the floor, unable to summon the strength to get back up. It was true, she loved him, and now he was gone. Guy was to blame. "May you rot in hell for slaying a good and honest man. A man who loved his friends. A man who was loved in return." She growled angrily.

The gang bowed their heads at the news of Djaq's love.

"How precious." Guy spat. "Bind them." Without any means of a struggle, the gang allowed themselves to be bound; they had not the heart for another fight. Guy crossed the room and observed Will. "What a sorry looking carcass." His jaw twitched as he took in the grotesque amount of blood. "About time he was killed, pestering, good for nothing little child."

"Will Scarlett was an honest man-." Robin said strongly.

"Will Scarlett? Is that his name? Well it seems like Allan lied to me yet again, not that this surprises me. William Phillip is not a real man." Guy rounded on Robin who grimaced. "Never matter. Whatever this wretch's name is, it makes no difference. He is dead, and let his soul descend into Hell."

"You murderous scoundrel! Will can do nothing but rise into the glory of God. It is you Sir Guy who must beg for forgiveness from He." Much roared, furious he would condemn Will.

"I care not whether I descend or rise. Not when I get all I want while I'm alive. Unlike this bastard." Guy replied. He studied the frail body once more before drawing spit and landing it on his face.

"Leave him be! Let him alone you monster!" Djaq shrieked. Guy stalked over to her and drew his hand across her face.

"Do not speak to me Saracen!" He cried. "Now take them away and leave the boy to rot."

The gang cringed at the thought of Will's body exposed to the air, but could do nothing about it as they were each led out of the camp and tied to one horse each. Robin was bound to Guy's and with a sneer, Guy kicked him as he mounted. Robin did not even curse. He looked over his shoulder to the candle lit camp and hoped that Will was in a better place.


	8. Leverage and Leather Men

They were thrust into two cells.

There was a silence.

"I guess this is it." Littlejohn said finally.

"What?" Much asked.

"This is it. A good day to die."

"We aren't going to die, John. No more of us shall die." Robin told him, shifting his hands in his ropes.

"Why Will. It wasn't his time." Much sniffed. "He was too young. Too needed." He looked to Djaq. "Too loved."

She closed her eyes and a single tear leaked from under her lids.

"I'm sorry Djaq. I'm sorry I didn't know." Robin said remorsefully.

She shook her head. "It could not be, even if you did know Robin. Being in the gang- it wouldn't have happened. And love does only work both ways."

"I think he would have returned your affection." Tuck said quietly. Everyone looked to him. "I am not as knowing as the rest of you, but from what I saw from my short time in the camp." He nodded slowly. "You are a fine woman, Djaq. A fine woman for a fine man."

Littlejohn snapped his pendant off his neck, looking down on the staff crossed with the bow. "What do we fight for? What did Will fight for?"

He tossed it to the other side of the cell where it echoed loudly across the room.

The gang were enveloped in their own thoughts for a few minutes.

"I cannot stand to think of Will alone in the forest. Can we not go to him?" Much asked.

"How are we to get out? Our hands are tied." George asked.

"Will used to do this thing where he'd…" Robin sat down on the dungeon floor and then raised his bottom and slid his bound wrists underneath. He then raised his knees and stepped into the gap between his bottom and his wrists, and then angling his shoulders, raised his arms and wrists along his shins and up over his knees. "I watched him do it once. It was a strange thing to me then, but it was Will; he had a brilliant mind." From there, Robin gnawed at his roped with his teeth as Much, George and Tuck sank to the floor.

"Robin there is no way I can do that." Littlejohn said. Robin smiled ever so slightly as he looked upon the giant, beefy man.

"Agreed. Once Tuck is out, he will aid you." Littlejohn and Tuck nodded. "Djaq? Can you manage that?"

"What's the point?" she asked quietly.

"Djaq. Will's death was a bitter blow. But one death cannot stop us from aiding the people of Nottingham, of England. We are Robin Hood, are we not? The people depend on us. Please Djaq." Robin said firmly, hoping to spark some inner confidence and motivation.

After a pause she too sunk to the floor. Robin gave a breath of relief.

Once everyone was out of their ropes, they looked to the cell doors. Littlejohn attempted to break them down with sheer body force, but to no success. If Will was here, he'd be nimbly cutting through the bars with his axe, or creating a key out of the wooden bench to unlock the door. Robin realised with a solemn thought that the entire gang would have to retrain and learn other ways of escaping cells without the aid of Will.

"What do we do master?" Much asked as Robin sat defeated on the bench. "We have no means of escape."

"I know! I know, alright?" he snapped. Much looked away, defeated. "I am sorry; I did not mean to raise my voice. I just do not know how to get out of here. I've became so dependent on Will I am incapable of thinking myself."

The gang were quiet once more.

"Leverage." Djaq announced.

"What?" Much asked dimly.

"Leverage." Djaq repeated, crossing to the bars. She fingered the metal. "The hinges. They slot into each other. All we need to do is find something to push the entire door upwards, over the hinges, and the door will simply fall out."

"Brilliant!" George grinned.

"Where did you get that from?" Robin asked, getting off of the bench to use that as leverage.

"Where else?" Djaq sighed.

Will.

Littlejohn bent and retrieved his necklace from the floor. He blew dust from it, and re-attached the two pieces of string together clumsily. He looked to Robin before putting it back on. "I put this on for Will, Robin, not you. He made this. Me made us. Him, I liked. Him, we loved. Him… him we will never forget."

With a brisk nod, he returned the pendant to his neck, clenched it tightly and then lifted the bench and using Will's method, freed them from captivity.

Once the doors were off and they'd taken the swords from the fallen prison guards, they ran from the castle.

Agonising pain rippled through every morsel of his body. His skin tingled and prickled, his blood pulsed and boiled. His teeth ground together and his fingers clenched unwillingly. His face felt heavy and caked in dried liquid. Forcing his crusting eyes open, he blinked in the candle light.

He gasped a breath, blood lining his gums and lips. He tasted metal. The blood he licked from his teeth and swallowed it thickly. Slowly and painfully, he lifted a hand to his face and wiped away liquid from his cheek. Groggily, like he'd awoken from a drunken stupor, he pulled his torso up to sit in the bed. He gazed around the room, noting the open door and the dead bodies cluttering the ground outside. Like an old man he rose from the bed, the covers falling around his feet. Numbly, he picked the sheet up and threw it over his shoulders. Then he stumbled from the bed and towards the door, towards an unknown destination. He stepped into the snow and followed trails of horses away from the camp.

He had no idea where he was going.

He followed the trail through a dense forest dumbly, paying no heed to what direction he fumbled. His head was a muddle of words and pictures, sounds and smells. He couldn't figure out which thought was a memory, or a hallucination. What was fact? Where was he? What was the cause of his pain?

Who was he?

He followed the trail for what seemed like an age, until he came upon a large town with towering walls. He stumbled in the gates, watching as people stared at him. He could feel their eyes, judging him. He did not know why they gasped, gossiped and grunted. He didn't understand why children ran from him or why woman turned to each other aghast.

He continued on, directly through the middle of the town until he came upon another walled circle. The gate was open, so he allowed himself to go through. There were three men standing at the top of a flight of stairs wearing heavy chainmail and carrying swords who saw him, spoke a few words and then dashed off. He followed them until he was lost in the corridors of a grand castle, each wall looking remarkably like the last. He heard wailing from a chamber to his right, and so headed towards the sound numbly. He knew not what he was doing.

He stumbled down a flight of steps and into what appeared to me numerous holding cells, however, the doors had been lifted clean off. The wailing continued through a large wooden door, and he followed the cries, pushing the door open and practically falling through.

The wailing abruptly stopped as the people behind the bars watched him fall into the room. He stumbled and his hands fell upon a chair, helping him remain upright. Shaking, he rose his heavy head to see what- or who- was crying. His eyes met sixty or so prisoners staring at him in horror, fear, and confusion.

"It's William Scarlett!" a girl suddenly burst. He found the source of the cry and looked upon a girl, perhaps in her early twenties, grasping the bars, her eyes sparkling. _William… Scarlett?_

"Help us! Will, please! Save us!" a man gushed, stretching his hand out to Will through the metal bars.

"Will?" the girl asked again. "Will, you're hurt. Where's Robin?"

"Robin?" he slurred, frowning. _Robin? Who's Robin? Who's William Scarlett? Who's Will? Where am I? What am I doing here? Where's Robert? Roger? Robin? Richard? Richard Mood? Food? Wood? What's this blood? What am I doing here? Who am i?_

He held a trembling hand to his head and slouched against the wall. The pain he was experiencing was too great; he began to feel dizzy, deluded. His confusion pained him; why couldn't he remember anything? He was vaguely aware of two men arriving at the door, grabbing him by the arms and dragging him through the doorway and up the stairs. He allowed himself to be forced into this; he was in no way fit to retaliate.

"Here, sir, I told you." One of the men holding him said as they arrived at the top of the stairs. He was thrown onto the ground at the leather clad feet of another man. The booted man lifted a foot and pushed him onto his bank. He found himself looking up at a sneering, greasy haired man, dressed head to toe in leather.

"But you were dead. I checked myself." The man muttered looking down upon him, frowning deeply.

"Can you help me?" he gurgled. "I don't know where I am. Robert Wood? Robin Mood? Ronald Hood? I don't know what I'm doing here."

"The man's drunk out of his wit sir."

"No, not drunk. Come, bring him to my chamber." The man sniffed, marching off.

He allowed himself to be pulled to his feet and then led along the corridor behind the leather man.


End file.
